*ooof*: Armitage as a Sitter (Literally)

Sorry if you were hoping for an *ooof* of the shoot in New York on Friday. But no, I am not going to launch into that. It’s a candid, for starters and you know what I think of candids,  and also I am obstinately refusing to regurgitate re-blog that picture for the umpteenth time this week. Frankly, I would much rather see photographer Leslie Hassler’s pro pictures of that shoot, than an incidental documentary Instagram shot, RL or not.

Strong words from Guylty this time ’round. Let’s appease our eyes and minds then with a lovely portrait that was requested by regular reader Micra/Microlina, who, under duress, eventually broke down and suggested a beardy picture for me to *ooof*. Yes, I am not a member of the Armitage Army – Beard Faction. But ladies, do not worry, I will not shoot anyone down who professes to be an acolyte to the hirsute Raviation variation. A picture is a picture is a picture, and I have blogged on Capt. Haddock… ooops… bearded RA many different times before… Take that for pleasing my audience… So we return to Australia in spring (their autumn) 2013, and we get this little gem by Tracey Nearmy:

Wide-eyed wonder Armitage
Shot by Tracey Nearmy, Sydney, 2013

This is an extremely rare occurrance of the smiling Armitage eyes. Yes, the extremely academic postcard test has revealed it – if you block out the lower half of Armitage’s face, you will notice that for once he is actually smiling with his eyes! And the eyes really are the main focus of this image. They open wider than usually it seems, and they make a nice focal point in this image. This is further emphasised by the composition of the image: Due to shooting at a low f-stop (= large aperture), the image has a shallow depth of field. All of Armitage’s face is in focus, while anything even on a plane only two centimeters behind the face has already fallen off. This includes his ears, but more importantly so the background. The imperfections and distractions of the background are thus obliterated, and the emphasis is even stronger on the focussed-on parts of the image.

This is further accentuated by the composition of the image. The diagonal lines in the background, created by the slats of the bench and the wall, work really well here, adding visual interest without taking too much attention. On the contrary, they feed attention back by guiding our gaze to Richard’s face as if that was needed, ph. Particularly the black line created by the ledge of the wall works that way.

In previous explorations of Nearmy’s shoot I had been looking at the lighting. Shooting outside, as I have droned on about before, usually is easiest, because no demanding flashes have to be set up. I had been wondering whether Nearmy has used a fill-flash or a reflector in this shoot. An indication is that there are neither unsightly shadows from where a flash would hit the face, nor is the hue of the image marred by cross-lighting, even if skin tone seems to be warmly enhanced here. However, there must be some light thrown onto the face from the front because we can see the characteristic angular shadow lines on Richard’s forehead. They could not be visible if the shot was only lit from above by the sun. A look at the hi-res image reveals that there is actually a trace of a reflection on Richard’s shiny leather jacket, on his front left. It even looks a bit golden, which leads me to guess that a golden reflector might have been used to throw the light back at Richard. That could also be responsible for the warm skin tone of his face. And it might also explain why Armitage’s eyes are wider open than in most of his shots – with the absence of a blinding flash, his eyes do not react and close? I stared deeply into Richard’s eyes to discern what is visible in the reflection there. Inconclusive (apart from the side effect of realising that Richard’s beard is a different colour than his hair… I always wanted to check that.)

This is, I conclude, a really well-executed outdoor portrait. Fabulous, actually. The lack of shadows says it all. And considering the space/location that Nearmy had to work with, she has done really, really well. I like the way she has anchored RA in the outdoor context, allowing the green hedge and the bench in the shots, and also the warm sunlight onto RA’s hair. Rather than concentrating only on his face, she uses the inanimate background to enhance the livelyness of the sitter. This, combined with the bright sparkle in his eyes, gives the impression of a man full of life, even though he is holding still for a photograph and is posing statically on a bench.

Which leads me to my lesson of the day. The issue of sitting or standing in a portrait shoot. Personally, in my own practice, I prefer my subjects to stand for me rather than sit. Anatomically, humans simply have a better posture when they stand than when they sit. They are naturally erect, and it is easier for them to pull their shoulders up and back. Now, RA is no slouch, and he is in fact a trained dancer, too, so his posture is very good at all times – I have never seen him stand crooked in photos. But not everyone is, and therefore standing up in a shoot usually works better with most people. It probably also helps with the subject’s confidence in the sense that they have no belly bulges to worry about when they are standing as opposed to sitting – not that RA has any… And it is easier to order them around – turn this way, turn that way, move back. An important consideration for a naturally bossy German ;-).

You can possibly also arrange a subject on a high bar stool, bum perched on the edge of the seet, their feet on the ground – that gives them a bit of relief while avoiding the slouchy sitting position that we often subconsciously slip into. That would also be easier for a photographer of small stature, i.e. yours truly (5’6”, or 1,70). If I need to get a shot in at head height of a say 6’3″ man, how would I do that, save balancing precariously on boxes? With the subject sat on a stool, I can shoot at head level. However, that means that I will be the one to slouch and crouch. If you move your attention back to the above image for a second, you will notice that Nearmy shot this image from just above Armitage’s eye-level. She was either using a tripod with her camera, or she was bending and crouching in front of him. Does that account for the twinkle in his eyes? While I am shooting, I am blissfully unaware of and distracted away from my own self, too engrossed in the mentally absorbing process of producing good images. But I have seen pictures of myself while shooting, and believe me, photographers’ gymnastics are not flattering. (You can see a little of that in the short video of Paula Parrish’s shoot for fault. Try to wrestle your eyes away from him and focus on the photographer. If you can.).

It is physically strenuous work for a photographer – bending forward to get the right angle and perspective, while holding and operating a heavy camera (approx. 1.5 kg). The hunched forward position, often with bent knees, takes its toll on the thighs, and I often have muscle aches in my thighs a day after a shoot. Unless I use a tripod. Which alleviates muscle strain, but renders the photographer much more immobile than a hand-held camera. (I should really get fitter, though…)

As for the ficlet – this is where my imagination took me this time. (Sorry, hope this is not too egocentric for you…)

It could have been a day like any other. I got up, got ready, and then I got a phone call. “Listen, honey, I have a favour to ask you!” My boss from the photo agency. His excruciatingly sweet tone didn’t bode well. “Yeah, Tony, what is it?” “I booked Larry to do a quick photo-call at half past 11, but he just called to say his gear was stolen under his arse on his way to the shoot. I need someone there NOW. You’re nearest, can you haul your obliging self over there pronto and take over?” That didn’t fit my plan at all. I had scheduled a long overdue post-production day today, and I hadn’t even changed out of my nightie yet. But he was the hand that feeds me, refusing a job meant giving someone else the opportunity to get in there. And I needed the money. I sighed. “Ok. Where? When?” “RTV studios. Half an hour ago.” “Fuck. Ok. Any info?” “Nothing big, hon, just some actor type, promo. Outdoors. Done in 10 minutes. Contact is Laura Walker.” “Already on my way.” I pulled on my dress and leggings from last night and grabbed my gear from behind the door while switching off my mobile and headed out the door.

—

I arrived out of breath. Damn, how I hated to be thrown into a job without preparation. I had no idea who I was shooting, what the location looked like, even what kind of photos were required. Plus, it had turned out to be a bright sunny day, and the quick cycle on my bike had left me sweaty and flushed. Laura Walker was already waiting for me by the door of the studios. “Guylty Pleasure? So glad you are finally here. He’s already waiting for you. He hasn’t got much time. You better get this done quick…”, she said curtly, chastising me for a mistake that wasn’t mine. Fuck, more pressure. I shot her a lethal glance, shouldered my bag and followed her.

She led me into a courtyard at the side of the studios. Obviously the place where the employees hung out for a sneaky fag. I took it in within a second: concrete slabs, a chest-high grey wall, some non-descript greenery. Bland City. This was getting worse by the minute, especially considering that the best looking side of the little courtyard was right in front of the sun. A pain to shoot. My subject was already there, sitting on the end of a lonely-looking bench, the bright sunlight behind him obscuring his face.

Ok, so quick quick quick because Mr Impatience needs to get away. I hurried towards the bench, fumbling with the clasps on my camera bag, pressing a cheerful “hellotheresorrytohavekeptyouwaitingIamreallysorryI’llbeasquickaspossiblejustonesecond” into Mr Impatience’s general direction. I busied myself with my gear, dumping the camera bag on the ground beside him, pulling out my 5d2. I could feel his eyes on me while I was rummaging in my bag. Shit. I had left my tripod at home. I would have to shoot hand-held. This was just not my day. Mr Impatience hadn’t moved an inch, probably icily surveying my desperate attempts at getting ready. Cool as a cucumber, Guylty!, I implored myself. I took the lens cap off, holding the camera to my eye, taking a couple of experimental shots of the hugely fascinating wall in front of me, to check if the metering was alright. With the camera still in front of my eyes, I turned to the left. My heart stopped when I stared right through the lens at the man who was anything but icily observing my struggles. My right index finger released the shutter in shock…

~ by Guylty on October 8, 2013.